Against the Sky
by purrpickle
Summary: It's Christmas of 2010, and Santana gets a call from the best friend she'd abandoned years ago. After the initial rush of guilt and concern, can she guarantee she won't run away again? That they'll be able to rebuild? Or even... Become something more?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within. Another story begat from a prompt sentence, this time from ellowyntinuviel, who supplied the quote of _The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock_, by T.S. Eliot. (It really is an amazing poem.) I don't foresee this story being a long one (or having the length of chapters you've come to expect from me), but of course we'll see. Anyway, on with the show~

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><p>"Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky."<p>

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><p>Rachel was crying when Santana picked up the phone. "<em>Berry<em>?" she asked, setting down the controller of Puck's Xbox 360. Hearing her, Puck set his own controller down and quirked an eyebrow. Santana shook her head.

"San-Santana?" Rachel sniffled, voice breaking and so soft Santana could barely hear her, "I – I know we aren't friends anymore but…" A loud, heartbreaking sob almost blew out the phone speaker, "But can you pick me up?"

Santana's heart squeezed so hard she almost couldn't speak. "Berry…"

"San, _please_."

Oh god. Closing her eyes, Santana didn't even have to think before she jumped up. "Okay, okay. Rache. I'm coming. Where are you?"

There was silence, and then Rachel was sobbing again, and Santana felt even worse because she knew it was because of her. "Rache, hun, please, tell me where you are?"

"I'm… I'm at the Christmas tree pl-place. F-Finn, he…"

"Christmas tree?" Santana repeated, and suddenly Puck was next to her.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, "Finn must've done something. Here, I know where he was going to take her."

Staring at him, Santana blinked, then nodded. "Grab my coat," she hissed, "And start the truck." Barely making sure he was following her orders, she took a deep breath. "Rache, honey. Rache, are you listening to me?"

Heavy breathing hitched, and then a low sound of confirmation managed to come through.

"Good. I'll be there soon, okay? Puck's driving so I'll even get to stay on the phone with you." Pausing, Santana dropped to the ground to start shoving her feet into her boots. Violently yanking one over her heel, she asked, "Are you somewhere warm?"

Rachel was still crying, but it was a little easier to hear her. "It's sn-snowing."

What? "Are you _in _the snow?"

"Uhm, uh-hum."

Alarm flared, and Santana all but ran outside, having never been happier when she saw Puck's truck already steaming in the falling, thickening snow. "Is there anywhere you can get inside?" she raised her voice as she jumped into the warm interior of the truck; Jesus, if she was this cold from just running from the house, she didn't want to imagine how cold Rachel was.

Pushing her coat at her, Puck didn't even wait for her to buckle up before taking off with a roar of his engine. "It's going to be about ten minutes in this weather," he grunted, intent on the swirling white and black that was the world outside the windshield, "But I'll try faster."

"_You better_." Having missed Rachel's answer, Santana tried again. "Rache, you can go inside?"

Her sobs now intermittent, Rachel sounded hoarse and husky and thick, "Too many people. Are…" Her voice fell to a whisper again, a fresh wave of tears apparently flowing over, "Are you coming?"

Santana's heart squeezed even tighter. She dropped her head, curling her free hand into a fist on her thigh. "I am," she promised, feeling weak and helpless, "I'm in the car now, Rache. I'm coming to get you."

A loud guttural noise blew air directly into the phone, and Santana strained her ears, trying to hear anything over the sound of wind. Finally, in an almost broken, disbelieving voice, Rachel's response held years of pain, "Are you really?"

Santana closed her eyes. Puck cursed loudly, having to yank the wheel sharply to the left, but she barely noticed. "Yes."

"Why? Wh-why now? Why not before?" A harsh cough cut off her words, finally tapering off into deep, intent breathing.

Santana swallowed. "Because I always promised you I would," she pushed out, losing her breath by the last word. Struggling to draw in air from lungs that weren't working, she hunched in her seat, pressed the phone even closer to her ear, and said something that should have been said a long time ago, "I promised you, Rachel. And I'm finally going to keep it."

"If – if you're not…"

"I _am_!"

"I'd understand."

"_No_, Rachel." Shaking her head, Santana snapped up to look out the windshield, willing herself to see where they were and for the truck to fly, "I'm coming for you."


	2. Chapter 2

Twinkling yellow lights and the dark mass of trees behind a wall of quickly becoming white cars were what met Santana's eyes the second she jumped out of Puck's truck. Barely remembering to grab her coat before it fell to the icy ground, she looked left and right as she scanned the tree farm. Rachel had said she was near the back of the lot, but with the way the lot was set up, that meant… The right.

"Are you here?"

Santana nodded gravely, striding quickly past the greeter and around small groups of families and the trees they were judging, "Just got here." The snow had let up some, but it was still constant, and Santana, if she was honest, was incredibly grateful she had forced Puck to stay in his truck to keep it running. "Tell me again," she tried to lighten her voice, coming upon the back, her heart rate picking up as she started scanning for Rachel's form, "Why you stayed in the back?"

Rachel's response was muffled, and Santana caught it both from her phone and the edge of awareness of her hearing, "I thought it would be best."

Santana smiled sadly, turning her phone off. Going to stash it in her jacket, she realized she wasn't wearing it yet, so she just kept a firm grip of it in her fist. "Rache?" she called softly, "I'm here."

A small dark figure with bright hat stepped from behind a tree, and the stray thought it was like a snow fairy melting into existence crossed Santana's mind before a sudden wave of uncertainty washed it away. "Rache," she repeated, barely able to meet the girl's eyes as she slowly started forward.

When Rachel didn't answer, Santana finally felt her composure cracking. Pressure grew behind her eyes, and she stopped, the leather of her jacket creaking in her tightening grip; she should really be putting it on, but she just… Couldn't.

God… Knowing how deeply the smaller girl felt things, Santana hoped the overwhelming fear pressing in on her wasn't warranted.

Rachel raised her head. Pulling the scarf she had wrapped around her mouth down, her eyes were big and red and shimmery. She swallowed. "You came."

Santana nodded.

Dragging in a deep breath, Rachel slumped. "_San_," she took a couple of staggering steps, and Santana caught her. Freezing, holding Rachel's sides, her phone and jacket caught in between, Rachel's hands splayed out on her biceps, they stared at each other.

When Rachel made to step back, Santana suddenly found herself pulling her in. Sliding around so one arm was around Rachel's shoulders, tucking her under it, she whispered, "C'mon, let's get you into Puck's truck. It's warm there."

Assuming Rachel nodded, Santana sighed and turned them back in the way she had come. She was getting cold, but she knew if she let Rachel go to put her jacket on, reality would set in.

Snow crunched under their feet. Santana chewed on the inside of her cheek. She slanted her eyes in Rachel's direction. "What happened?"

Rachel didn't answer, and all Santana could see was the dark of her hair sticking wetly to her face. The uncomfortable feeling in her stomach pulsed and moved up her chest. "Rache," she whispered, taking a chance to stop even if it was getting colder and colder; squeezing Rachel's shoulder, she glanced down at her hand holding her jacket, and flicked it over her shoulder. Barely waiting to see if it would stay, she slid her now free hand around Rachel's side and pulled her around, slipping up to gently nudge her chin in her direction. "Rache, sweetie," she pushed out before she could recognize what she was saying, fighting not to close her eye against the wind and snow she'd turned herself towards, "What happened?"

Rachel did not look pretty. Her eyes were red, her nose and cheeks red as well with the cold and wind chill. Tears and snow had combined on her cheeks to look like it was a step away from freezing.

Averting her gaze, Rachel's lips twisted. "…Can we leave?" she whispered, hollow and almost pleading. When she looked back at Santana, the tears started flowing again.

Staring at her, a giant shiver broke through Santana's tensed muscles, and she took a breath. "Only if you tell me. Tonight. You don't have to tell Puck, but," she stressed, firming her voice, "You _will _tell me. No question."

Finally, Rachel nodded.

Shivering again, and stroking her thumb along Rachel's chin before dropping her hand and pulling her jacket back into it, Santana almost crushed Rachel back into her side and plowed back towards the front of the farm. Even though she normally loved the smell of pine trees and enjoyed bright Christmas lights and Styrofoam crunch of the snow underfoot, she just wanted to get out of there. Her heart still beat hard from fear for Rachel, from fear of what had happened, from fear of the total suspension of disbelief she had to be under to be able to ignore reality and justify _acting this way_… From fear of how long that justification would last.

But first, she pulled open the door to Puck's truck and almost lifted Rachel into it, pushing her into the back seat and clambering after, directing Puck to get fucking _going_ already, she had to get Rachel to stop crying again.


	3. Chapter 3

Santana stared down at the two mugs of tea steaming on the kitchen counter. Her hand sitting loosely on the tea kettle she'd just set down onto the cutting board, her fingers curled tighter around the handle before the steam escaping the lid became too hot to handle. Letting go, she brought her hand to her other, rubbing against the slightly burning skin.

Would Rachel still accept honey with her tea? Was honey considered vegan?

Not knowing the answer, Santana sighed and looked down at her hand. Not burned. Not even red. Just tingling. Eying the two mugs, she sighed again and hoped the heat hadn't spread enough to make them painful to hold, either. Rachel would appreciate tea.

If she hadn't fallen asleep yet, changed as she was into a pair of Santana's sweats and bundled up under Santana's comforter and blanket and extra blanket, so completely covered Santana had been barely able to see her eyes when she left to find her yet another thing to get warm with. At least she'd been able to change herself, walking to the bathroom without a word after Santana handed her the sweats.

In fact, she hadn't said a word since entering Puck's truck, nodding and shaking her head when needed, curling up into Santana's side so close Santana hadn't needed to concentrate to feel the full-body shaking of her shivers. She couldn't have missed them if she had tried.

Pausing outside the door to her bedroom, Santana chewed idly on her lower lip, frowning. Did she need to knock before she went in? It _was _her room, but Rachel was in there.

Rachel.

In her bed.

She hadn't been in her bed in years. Not since their last sleepover. Not since… Santana's stomach roiled, and she shut her eyes against the guilt that resurged through her body. No. She didn't need to knock. She never used to.

Not having shut the door entirely when she'd left, Santana used her hip to push it open. Almost immediately, red rimmed brown eyes glowed at hers from above a lump of blankets; Rachel's nose wasn't even out in the air, and Santana wondered if the girl had only jerked the blankets down when the door swung open. Not knowing and not caring enough to ask, Santana padded over to the side of the bed Rachel was closest to. She pushed a mug at her, "Here."

The brown eyes blinked, and then more of Rachel's face was revealed as she pushed herself up, a waterfall of thick hair and bangs falling as she rose. Sniffing, a pale hand appeared to wipe at her nose before another reached out to wrap around the handle, above Santana's fingers. "Thank you," she half-whispered.

Her voice was husky and scratchy, and Santana nodded, automatically reaching forward with her now free hand to pull the blankets back up around Rachel's chest, plopping down on the side of her bed. Keeping one of her feet on the floor, she silently studied Rachel's bowed head. Her insides twisted. "I didn't know if you would still want honey."

A pink tongue darted out to lick a stray drop of tea from the corner of Rachel's mouth, the girl having flinched at both Santana's words and the heat of the tea. Rachel darted her eyes up to look at her, "Why?"

A shrug rolled on Santana's shoulders. "You're vegan, right?" she didn't really ask, "I don't know if honey is considered 'animal' or not. I mean, I know you'd always beg Mamí to add more and more, but that…" She trailed off, pausing to blow across her own tea, the smell giving her something to concentrate on than the overwhelming sense of discomfort thrumming in the room. She sighed. "That was before."

"Before. Right." Dropping a hand to pull the covers up around her chin again, scrunching down into her already made cocoon, Rachel peered up at Santana again. "San…" she mumbled, lips pressed against the ceramic of the mug as she took a sip.

"Yeah?"

Rachel seemed to pull into herself again. Sliding her fingers along the still-slightly-burning surface of her mug, Santana glanced at her, then set her tea down onto the bedside table. Wrapping her hand around the covers stretched under Rachel's arm to under her own leg, Santana pushed herself up and tugged.

Gasping as her tea sloshed, Rachel raised her arms, letting Santana slide under the covers, barely able to fit both of her legs fully onto the bed as she had to almost lay across Rachel. She couldn't help rolling her eyes. "Do you mind?"

Inching her way towards the middle of the bed in clumsy jerks of her body, her tea held far in front of her, Rachel squeaked when Santana flashed out to take the tea from her. "San!"

Putting the tea next to her own on the bedside table, Santana looked at the floor. Rachel had promised. Breathing in deeply, she shook her head, and sprung back around. Wrapping her arms around Rachel's shoulders, she pushed her to the side, making the both of them fall with a muted thump, instantly twisting her arm not under Rachel's body up to sweep the thick covers over them, blocking out the light and fresh air. "Okay," she whispered, shifting so her knees pressed into Rachel's side. Putting her weight on her arm caught under Rachel's neck, and aware of the overly loud sound of her heart and Rachel's breathing in the enclosed, muggy space, she licked her lips and lowered her head until her forehead pressed into the mattress next to Rachel, one side of her head smack against her own shoulder, "_Talk_."


	4. Chapter 4

It really was tragically pathetic. Purely Rachel. Purely the girl Santana had known for more years than she wanted to remember. Purely a heartbroken girl overwhelmed by her first love ripping out her heart and stomping on it. Purely, pretty much, Santana's fault.

Feeling Rachel's body shaking under hers, hands clawing the fabric of her shirt so tightly Santana could feel her nails digging into her shoulder blades, the girl blubbering against her neck, Santana was only able to stare into the darkness past Rachel's ear.

It was taking all of her strength not to push Rachel away, kick her out of her bed and scream at her to get out of her room. Guilt and pain was whirling thick in her body, and it was making her sick to her stomach.

She shouldn't feel bad.

But she did.

Because Rachel was crying because Santana had slept with Finn.

Rachel's body was small in her arms, against her. The baby fat she'd had years ago was now all gone, years of dance classes having leaned her out even more. She'd switched shampoos, and was wearing a new perfume, the combination giving Santana a slight headache. At the same time, she was Santana's old best friend, and this new girl Santana wasn't sure what to do with.

It wasn't helping that all of this was because of her.

Breathing in deeply, Santana tensed, wanting to put some space between them; the air was closing in on her, the temperature of the enclosed space pressing in on her rising.

But the second she moved, Rachel whimpered.

"_Rachel_," Santana sighed harshly, closing her eyes to clamp down on the instinctual anger still heavy in her throat, wanting words to spit out before she could stop them, "I can't breathe."

"I don't know if I'll ever breathe again," Rachel got out thickly, body going slack for the second needed for Santana to pull away from her, rolling over to find the nearest edge of the covers and push them down. Light seared into her eyes.

Tea. It probably wouldn't be warm anymore, but it would still do… Something. Sitting up, Santana first reached for Rachel's mug. Hearing the girl still quietly crying, Santana closed her eyes. "Rache."

A small hand touched her arm. It was trembling, and Santana deflated, putting the tea back down, dropping back to sweep Rachel back into her arms. Not caring that the covers bunched along her chest, snaking along Rachel's neck, the girl's head and one arm the only thing touching Santana directly, Santana pulled her close, urging her arms back around her.

"Rachel," she shot out, squeezing Rachel's face into her neck, feeling like she needed to be as close as they were again before she'd left the isolation of the covers, "He's just a _boy_. A stupid, inconsistent boy."

"But he's all I _have_," Rachel sobbed, shaking her head violently, "Nobody else _wants me_. Nobody's _ever_ wanted me like he did. He's the only one I'll ever have."

Santana grit her teeth. "You don't _know_ that."

"I do. He's," Rachel's voice broke, "My _soulmate_."

"You're being fucking _ridiculous_."

Rachel pulled herself back enough to glare at her. "How would _you_ know, Santana? It's obvious you don't know _anything_ about love or – or you'd _understand_ what I'm going through. Are you _really_ that heartless?"

"And who was the one who fucking _cheated_ on her _soulmate_?" Santana snapped, pushing Rachel away from her. Jumping up from the bed, she took a couple of steps away before whirling back around. "_Fuck_, Man Hands," she snarled, seeing the swollen brown eyes red upon Rachel's white face fill with more tears only making her anger grow. "You are _such _a hypocrite."

Opening her mouth, ready to yell at the girl and scream everything she was thinking and feeling, ready to blame _her_, to get her to _leave _Santana _alone_, she watched as Rachel tensed, clenching her eyes shut as she turned her head to the side as if to shield herself, tiny and shrunken, beaten down as she looked resigned to whatever Santana was going to do to her – – and Santana stopped.

That wasn't what she was angry with Rachel for. She was angry at Rachel for _now_. For this whole situation. For making Santana _feel _what she was feeling. She was angry at Rachel for making her angry at herself. For going, for abandoning Rachel, for _everything._

And yelling at Rachel was exactly what she'd promised she wasn't going to do.

Turning around, Santana slid to the floor, pushing her back against the bed. Putting her hand to her face, covering her eyes as warm tears of her own started slipping down her cheeks, she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm… I'm not mad at…"

It wasn't a surprise when her voice died. What was the point?

Her hand falling to cover her mouth as a noise threatened to slip out, she sucked in a breath through her nose, her other hand digging into the carpet, and she tried to shut out the sounds of Rachel getting off the bed and leaving.

But instead, Rachel's arms suddenly slung around her neck, the weight of her upper body settling on her shoulders. A wet cheek was pressed into her own, soft hair tickling her skin, and Santana dropped her head back, hitting Rachel's collarbone before burying her nose into Rachel's jaw line, more tears building and falling as she wrapped her hand around Rachel's shoulder, anchoring her there; everywhere but where Rachel touched her was cold and alone.

"I'm the one crying," Rachel whispered.

"Can't even share that," Santana managed, lips barely twitching up.

Rachel sighed, her breath warm on Santana's neck and upper chest. "Of course not," she sniffled, tightening her hold. "I… _San_." More weight dropping onto Santana's shoulders, Rachel's hand moved down, trailing along Santana's arm. Her cheek pressed closer into the side of Santana's face, and when she drew in a skittering breath, Rachel closed her fingers around Santana's hand when she raised it to meet her, "I didn't expect you to really pick me up."

Santana nodded, closing her own hand around Rachel's before the hollow feeling in her chest took over her completely, "I'm sorry it took me so long."

Aware of Rachel's fingers in hers feeling like they had never left, Santana didn't know what she was doing anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **It's always strange getting back into a story.

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><p>Eventually, they'd shuffled back onto the bed. With Rachel tucked close into her side, cheek pressed into her chest and the odd tear leaking out now and then, Santana was softly stroking her hair. Part of her was relaxed and calm, completely focused on the girl in her arm. The other part was still screaming at her, rattling inside her brain and making her free hand at her side tremble.<p>

Santana closed her eyes. Why couldn't her mind shut up?

Rachel sighed, her warm breath seeping into Santana's shirt, making Santana shiver. "San," the small girl's voice was thin and tired, quiet, "What went wrong?"

"With?"

The feeling of Rachel's body changed. Or maybe it was Santana's expectation of a response that made her feel it. Either way, it didn't help the tightness of her chest. She really _didn't _want to talk about this.

"San…"

"Reality happened," Santana thrust out, cutting her off. Staring up at her ceiling, her fingers curled in Rachel's hair, above her ear, "And nothing will change that."

Rachel's hand slipped up Santana's side, sliding across her stomach. It was unexpected, and it left a trail of awareness behind it. Santana did her best to ignore it.

When Rachel spoke again, her voice was lower, jagged again, like how her fingernails were digging through Santana's shirt, "So after today, this never happened? I should just expect the abuse and callousness and _betrayal_ – "

"_Berry_. _Shut up_!" Santana snapped, hand slapping over Rachel's, her arm squeezing her body involuntarily, "That wasn't what I said at _all_. _Jesus_, Rachel." Shifting, rolling to face her, Santana didn't care that her arm was now pinned; she glared at Rachel, knocking their legs together and so close she couldn't avoid her dark, shuttered gaze, "What have I been _telling _you?" She sucked in a deep, ragged breath, "_God_! I screwed _up_, Rachel. Okay? I _know_ you know it. _But_ _nothing I can do now will erase the past_. _That's _what I said. Just… Just _get_ that, dammit." By the end, her voice was a harsh whisper, trailing off.

Rachel swallowed, tongue darting out to wet her upper lip before closing her teeth on it, slowly letting it go. Finally, she blinked, bobbing her head, the hand forgotten in Santana's rotating to wrap around her wrist, small and soft. "This is crazy," she whispered, meeting Santana's eyes again, "I… I'm still so hurt and _angry _at you…"

Thickness invaded the space around Santana's heart, expanding to become a vice grip around her whole chest.

"But I still remember what we once had, and how you could always cheer me up. And there's no denying that you've been holding me and are, just, well, _here_, but… Santana." She looked down, then looked back up, quickly meeting Santana's eyes and forcing a resolved expression on her face, "San. What am I… How am I…?"

Santana closed her eyes again. She growled, "Just _say_ it, Rachel."

"How do you honestly believe that I can believe this?"

"I don't." It was like an all-stop. Santana shrugged. Her voice hadn't wavered, coming out almost emotionless, and suddenly, that was all she could feel. She was tired. She was done. What more did Rachel want from her? Tensing her muscles, she pulled back, shuffling off of the bed and depositing Rachel fully back onto the mattress.

Rachel matched her movements by sitting up, picking one of Santana's pillows to hug into her lap, like a stuffed animal. Her eyes were big, curious, even as shades of weariness still lurked in the corners.

Santana sharpened her voice, "I don't. But you know how nice it would be if you, for _once_, stopped thinking this is all about and only about you?"

"I don't – "

"You do. You are." Santana wasn't surprised by Rachel's instinctual protest. Shaking her head, she took a seat on the side of the bed, echoing what she had done earlier that day, and pinned Rachel's gaze to her own. "So why don't we get into this?"

Rachel's mouth was opening again, but Santana didn't want to hear it, _couldn't_ hear it, and forged ahead. She started as if she was ticking off a list with her fingers.

"I slept with your boyfriend _when he wasn't your boyfriend_, but you still hold me accountable for him not telling you.

"I stopped talking to you the summer before high school, and I'm pretty sure you think that was all _my _fault, too."

Rachel's grip on the pillow tightened, and she shook it, shaking her head furiously in tandem. "It _was_! You went off to Cheerleader Camp! You left, and you, you never came _back_, Santana! I didn't know who you _were_."

"I was _me_, Rachel!" Santana yelled. It echoed in the room, crackling through the air. She gave up any pretense of counting anymore. "I was _me_, and you didn't care!"

Rachel shook her head again. "What does that even _mean_?"

"It _means_," Santana stood up again, words and hurts and feelings and energies splintering and tumbling, surging out, "That as soon as I found something to concentrate on that _wasn't _you and your voice, _your _dreams, you stopped giving _back_ to _me_." She ground her teeth, throwing her hair out of her face before whirling on Rachel again; she was going to get this out, and she was going to get this out _now_, "How many times did you tell me how stupid and shallow cheerleading was as soon as it became clear I wanted to pursue it into high school? Not _once _did you support _me_, Rachel. Not once. And yet I always always always _always_ supported you." She looked away, voice dropping, rasping with angry, deeply scarred disappointment before her throat closed itself off, "You and your _fucking _Broadway voice."

The confession left Santana with ears hot and ringing, limbs swirling with energy, and heavy, rough breathing. Dammit, _why_ was she letting Rachel _get_ to her like this?

At least, she thought, trying to push her feelings back into the corner of her mind, to get herself under control again, at least maybe Rachel could believe that to be entirely true. To be the entire reason their friendship had ended. Please. That was all Santana could handle. Please.

But it wasn't until Rachel's quiet, slow, heartbroken, "I didn't want to lose my best friend to the beautiful popular girls," that Santana realized, eyes snapping to meet wet, red eyes, that Rachel already knew.


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